"Please, there must be something you can do. Oh if he'd just managed to keep his eyes open, two more minutes would have been enough."
“You will all die for what you have done to me!” Van Torxes hissed. As his face reddened with anger, he stormed out of the room towards his chambers.
"kara diamos ica" the wind stopped, and for a moment he was deaf to the world, and then his hearing returned.
as he looked around him and his bod began to warm agian after hours of finding a spot to shelter from the winter strom that was raging in the skies.
"IT WORKED!, im safe, now i only need to make my way to the academy"
Jemas Lorne, the most celebrated poet of the age, was found dead, clutching a fragment of verse torn from his journal. The tantalizing fragment spoke of wealth:
Golden sands, empty and cold,
Treasure's crypt, forgotten gold.
Under stone, ancestor's doom,
Noble's prize, troubadour's tomb.
Rumours claim that the poet's father, an eccentric nobleman, had hidden much of his wealth before his death. Perhaps the missing journal has more clues?